Can we find a middle ground here? Maybe not so far back as kicking tumbleweed down Main Street, but at least spending some quality time with the people in our lives and putting down our devices sometimes so we can be present with others and ourselves?

The two forms of communication -- virtual and physical -- can work in tandem, but the physical kind obviously takes a bit more effort, but most often results in a far more meaningful experience.

It's this ability to stay connected, to stand by each other, that has kept the people of Boston strong during one of the worst weeks in the city's storied history. But they're not the only ones who have the ability to shore up resilience. You do. I do.

I have experienced and witnessed that the only way to transmute violence, anger, and fear is with courageous love and compassion.

The worst thing you can do in this life is let someone think that they don't matter. People need each other, and we have the power to inspire others. Everyone wants to feel that someone cares about them.

Some have suggested that sending a condolence card is in fact part of a physician's professional obligation to a patient. Families may be comforted by the affirmation that their loved one was not merely a name on a roster, but a person, whose death is noteworthy.

Since life can be abrupt and harsh, it's a constant challenge to meet experience without shutting down. If we're too guarded, we're never touched by what matters. On the contrary, it seems that to be touched by what matters, we need to develop our gentleness.

Musician Amanda Palmer's TED 2013 talk, "The Art of Asking," resonated with me as a reminder that, even in today's seemingly impersonal digital age, human connection is still a powerful currency.

Whether grieving the loss of our own life, or another's, we each have the capacity to see past the veils of separation. If our hearts are willing, grieving becomes the gateway to loving awareness, the entry into our own awakened nature.

When health-care providers cry -- as they almost all do, at least occasionally -- I encourage all of us as their family members, friends, colleagues, and sometimes patients to offer them an ear, a tissue, and a reminder that even though it is rarely talked about, they are not crying alone.

In this age of anxiety, there seems to be, after all, a deep yearning for genuine human connection and real-life interaction devoid of electronic distraction. The question is, will future generations have the capacity to attain it and sustain it?

Were Americans ever really more connected and trusting? Or is that just nostalgia? This summer and fall, I'm trying my best to find out. For the past two weeks I've been slowly driving across America, town by town, state by state, trying to meet 100 strangers per day, every day.

Neither a person nor a society can be a success without valuing all the component parts of human nature.

The world will not end with a whimper or a bang, but with the flicker of a cerulean blue screen inscribed with the epitaph, "Twitter is over capacity." Overcapacity is sucking the life out of us.

We're moving into an age where personal contact is becoming a lost art. Even the check-in at the airport is now done by a computer.